


Lay Your Burden Down

by FlashySyren



Series: A Thousand Years [2]
Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2275548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashySyren/pseuds/FlashySyren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fixing what's broken between them is a challenge that Thor is up for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Your Burden Down

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be pure fluff, but I'm not so good at fluff. Hopefully things can be less angsty in the future.
> 
> The characters belong to Marvel and their appropriate affiliates, not me, and as always, my work is unbeta'd, I apologize for my editing failures.

The firelight danced over Sif’s skin, her features soft as she slept, open and peaceful, vulnerable in a way that she rarely was awake. Thor’s fingers flexed, itching to be drawn over her skin, but he didn’t want to wake her, not yet. Oddly enough, it was these moments when he could see the depth of the chasm that stretched between them, the difference between a fully relaxed woman, and the warrior he had been sharing his time with.

He wasn’t self-absorbed enough to believe that the distance between them was due entirely to his own actions. Loki had held her at his command, pushed all the right buttons to squeeze her between a rock and a hard place, caught between duty and need, and choosing the former despite the scars her obedience left behind. How could she not blame Thor, at least a little, for abdicating the throne and leaving Loki in command of the realm? He hadn’t know it was Loki, but he should have. If only he could have looked past his grief for just a moment…

Putting a stop to that train of thought, Thor sighed. What ifs would do nothing to change the past, all that could be done was move forward, and decide how dedicated he was to mending what was broken. In her sleep, Sif’s face scrunched up, her nose wrinkling in a way that reminded him of Jane. He knew she would protest being compared to her, but how could he not? Jane had been the first woman to capture his attention so entirely, to teach him how hard it could be to maintain a relationship; the first to make him _want_ to work for something more than just sex.

He knew, too, that it was that truth that made it so easy for her to believe that he would replace her with Jane if he could. Sif never said as much, but he could see it in her eyes sometimes when he called her his beloved. A reproach that wouldn’t have existed before, and out of respect for her feelings, he tried not to use the endearment very often. He had no idea if he was doing the right thing, backing away instead of confronting her insecurities. Lady Sif had become a contradiction, a silent one. So that many of their conversations happened in the spaces between words and actions. It was frustrating, and yet evidenced the fact that they knew each other well enough to read what had been left unsaid.

There was no way to thank Sif enough for accepting his choice and standing aside. Especially now that he could see how much it had cost her. Once he would have described Sif as, using the mortal words, wearing one’s heart upon their sleeve, at least where he was concerned, but no longer, and now she surrounded her heart with steel. He realized that coming back into her life had been akin to hurling Mjölnir at her shield. She knew her weapons could not withstand the assault, but surrendering meant resigning herself to be hurt again.

These were the things he had learned while trying to bridge the void, some of it by listening to her words, and the rest by reading her body, the flashes of emotion in the hazel depths of her eyes, always carefully covered up. Thor tried to imagine what it might be like if things had gone differently and their places were traded, but he couldn’t. That, he knew, was a result of his arrogance.

He refused to regret Jane, but did regret the way he had pulled away from Sif. He had left their friendship in question, and for that, he would forever wish he could go back and do it over.

The bed dipped as he slid closer to where Sif slept, her scars hard to see in the flickering light, blending in with the undulating shadows, but he knew where they were, knew the stories behind almost all of them. He sought none of the familiar ones, however, but the newest of them. His fingers trailed against the raised scar on the back of her shoulder, below her shoulder blade. There was an identical one on the front, telling the tale of impalement. It was steeply angled, lower in back than in the front. Was her opponent a giant? Or was she kneeling before them? When he had asked her about it, she changed the subject, and he let her, but his curiosity had not waned. Neither had the sick feeling in his gut whenever he looked at it.

For a shoulder wound, the scar shouldn’t have been so visible. Eir would have been able to heal it easily enough, leaving only a pale, flat mark against her skin. Obviously, no healer had tended to it, and it was that which bothered him most.

At his touch Sif began to rouse, as he knew she would, back arching as her muscles flexed, stretching before rolling so that she was no longer on her side. Thor waited for her smile, he always got the most genuine of them before she was fully awake, and just like the sun raising over the mountaintops, her lips curved, arms reaching out over her head before curling back against her face. This was the Sif he most missed, the one he knew was still there, hidden under lock and key where the warrior side of his lover hoped to protect her, just waiting for permission to return.

He had no intention of ever hurting her again, but no idea how to show her so.

“I’m sorry to wake you, warrior mine.” He murmured, bending to kiss the corner of her mouth as she hummed in answer, her fingers curling over the course stubble of his beard. He leaned into the touch, and when he opened his eyes again, she was watching him. “I wish to play a game of sorts.”

Even in the dim he could see her wariness. “A game?”

“An exchange of honest answers. I ask you a question, and in return, you may ask me one.”

“Alright.” She agreed slowly, sitting up.

Thor nodded, holding his hands out to invite her closer, so they were facing each other fully. “Is this what you want, you and I together this way?”

Half of her face was cast in shadow, the other glowing in firelight. “….That is no simple question, Thor.”

“If the questions were easy, I would already know the answers, Sif.” He responded gently.

“I’m not satisfied with us… this way.” The answer was careful, but it was as he already suspected.

“You may ask a question now.”

Sif hesitated. “…I don’t ask questions because I do not wish to know the answers.”

He might as well have been kicked in the chest. “Norns below, Sif…. That is not alright. Not at all. You deserve answers, especially if they are painful. How can you—“

The pads of her fingers pressed to his lips, silencing him. He sought her gaze questioningly.

“I don’t wish to know them because they don’t matter. No possible answer to any question I might have can change the way I feel for you.”

Grasping her hand, he kissed her palm and tugged her closer. “Then why don’t you fight for us?”

“What is it that I’m doing here if I’m not trying to hold my line?” Sif leaned closer, close enough to share breath. “I’m merely waiting for an opening.”

“Like this one?” Her hair was silky, sweeping against his hand as he cupped the back of her neck.

“Maybe.” She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue swiping against his in the process, and Thor’s ensuing groan was half growl.

“You will not derail me with sex.”

With a sigh, she tried to sit back, but Thor stopped her from moving away, gripping her hips to pull her into his lap. He was relieved when she settled there, fitting her bare body against his, and reminding him that neither one of them was dressed.

“Ask your questions.” She murmured against the crook of his neck. “I will answer them.”

Leaning his cheek against her crown, he combed his fingers through the loose ends of her hair. “Do you think my care for you is insincere?”

Her breath caught, freezing in her chest, and he knew he hit square upon the crux of things. Sif exhaled slowly, measuring her breathing before she answered. “I believe your care for me is genuine, but you care for many.”

“None as much as I care for you. None do I ache for in their absence as I do for you.”

“Still your tongue.” There was no heat behind the admonishment, and Thor chose not to heed her.

“Only the Lady Sif stands my equal in all things. My warrior queen.” His touch was light, following the familiar path of her spine, the topography he had been studiously memorizing. “Will you be that for me? Will you trust me?”

Sif’s fingernails dug into his back, the crackle of the fire filling the silence. “I… will strive to.”

“Then I have only one question remaining.” Thor leaned forward, laying her back against the bed, placing himself within the apex of her thighs. He sucked in a breath as his length brushed against her folds, but ignored the urge to bring their bodies together. “Will you stop hiding from me? I want Sif, all of her, from her brash commanding style, to her preference for floral bath oils; the woman who wears carnage as easily as silk.”

There was no verbal reply, but he got all the response he needed when her hands caught in his hair, pulling him down as she crashed her mouth against his. It was a relief to feel the tension in her body ease, the way her eyes had softened, and he laughed against her lips, lips that curved into an unmistakable smile before he suddenly found himself flipped over onto his back.

In doing so, Sif broke the kiss, a curtain of ebony falling into his face until she reached up to tuck it behind her ears. Thor palmed her breasts, pinching her nipples between his fingers, thrilling at the way her stomach muscles clenched, legs gripping him more tightly.

She hissed and shifted backward, closing her hand around his length. Grunting, his hips jerked upward, thrusting into her hand.

“Not yet.” Thor growled, gripping her hips and half lifted, half dragged her up his body.

Sif’s surprised squeak sent a thrill of pleasure straight to his core, those sounds were his alone. Her hands slapped the headboard as she reached for something to balance when he settled her above his face and delved into her folds with his tongue.

He loosened his hold on her to slide his hands down the curve of her hips, to curl them over the tops of her thighs so that she was trapped against him. He flicked at her clit with the tip of his tongue, tightening his grip as her muscles flexed beneath his palms, shuddering.

“ _Thor_!” The cry was so desperate that he groaned, his already aching erection throbbing, but despite his body’s determination to convince him otherwise, he was in no hurry. Sif was so close she ground downward, forcing him to adjust his grip to hold her still, listening to her gasps, the whines that he knew few others had ever heard. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt so possessive, or victorious when her muscles clenched, listening the sound of her fingernails on the headboard.

Though she trembled, he moved her anyway, and dumped her back down on the bed. Thor wiped his mouth with his forearm, and smoothed his hands up her thighs, over the red marks that would soon darken into bruises. Knowing that she enjoyed the marks almost as much as the pleasure only went so far in assuaging his guilt, and he bent to kiss each fingerprint in turn.  
Sif tugged his hair, drawing him up her body, but Thor ignored the sting of his scalp when he paused to kiss her navel, leaving a wet trail as he tasted her skin, stopping again to swirl his tongue around one of her nipples, smiling as she sucked in a breath, her body arching under him.

Her nails scraped over his scalp, making him shiver, and this time he let her guide him until their lips met, kissing her deeply. She tended to look at sex much the same way she did a fight, approached it just as aggressively, and he loved that about her, loved the feel of her teeth and nails, the struggle between them to take control, but he wasn’t content with the fact that she didn’t know how to make love.

Predictably, she tried to flip them over again, but he pushed her back down on the bed. “Not this time.” He breathed, and pulled back again to press his lips to the mysterious scar on her shoulder, palming her breast. They had hours yet before daybreak, and he intended to make full use of his time.

~

Later, when the fire had reduced to warm coals, and morning’s light crawled across the floor from the open balcony, banishing the night’s shadows, Thor brushed his hand through Sif’s hair as she napped, curled up against his chest. He realized, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he was hers, could feel that truth in his very soul, leaving no question that he would content himself with proving that fact to her.


End file.
